A centering practice for meetings, gatherings or worship in person or online.

We pause as the path of the sun reverses, seemingly holding its place for a moment of turning. Let us delve into the gifts of darkness at the winter solstice. We follow curiosity and contemplation down into the cold earth, taking a journey to the world below the surface....

In the unity of the spirit, in the sanctity of this gathering, let us quiet ourselves as we settle into a meditative moment, a time when we can each listen to that still, small voice within. All our souls speak to us, if we trust ourselves to hear them. What do they tell us this day, in this very...

On my worst days, it is gravity I am most grateful for: the way the earth pulls at me from her core, yearns for me, keeps me pressed tightly against her surface. When my own core is hollowed out, when I have no more mass than a leaf dead on the branch, still this is enough for the earth to find me.

Let this be a place of warm and gentle silence: the silence that soothes and comforts the wounded, the silence that yields insights into heart and soul, the silence that calms, the silence the listens, the silence that speaks, the silence that renews. Let this be a place of warm and gentle silence.

I invite you now into a time of meditation. You may wish to adjust your position: your feet flat on the ground, your body resting easily against the back of the chair, your hands gently open, palms up, resting on your thighs, your eyelids relaxed and half-closed, your breathing soft and easy.

The Congregational minister stopped me in the aisle of the supermarket a few months after I had unexpectedly recovered from a serious illness. With a gentle but slightly teasing smile he asked me, “How does a Unitarian deal with a miracle?” It was a good question, one which I thought about a...

For the setting sun from an airplane window; for the rising sun from a train window after riding all night; for the rising sun and setting sun in directions that feel foreign; for the sunlight even when we are lost. For the times the heart has longed to be alone. For the times the heart has ached...

“We want to give you an update on our progress,” the captain said over the PA. A silent groan went through the passengers: the word “update” meant the problem wasn’t fixed. I was on a plane sitting on the tarmac trying to get to the East coast where I was officiating at my nephew’s...

Early in the morning, before the children are awake and while the grass is still dewy, I like to walk in my garden. It’s “my” garden only because it shares the same small plot of land my family and I inhabit. The garden does not really belong to me; I belong to it—at least for the short time...